Page 20 of Country Charm

I sit down at his two-seater patio set; it’s nothing special, just a small wrought iron table and two chairs. He spray-painted it grey a few years ago because when he had bought it off someone in town it was pink. A few years of being outside and getting the usual wear and tear caused some ofthe pink to peek through. The cracking on the grey paint makes the set look like it has pink tiger stripes. On a usual day I’d make fun and tell his lazy ass to sand and repaint it, but today I just sit.

“I went to the city last night,” I start, taking my bowl. I know Harrison will ream my ass, but he’s a lot better at getting women to stay for more than one night. I’m sure I could be too if I asked the ones in town, but I don’t want any of them.

“What for?” he says, stirring his bowl.

We eat and I tell him from beginning to end about Cassidy. The app, the prank, the date. All of it. I expected him to laugh and poke fun, but he just listens and eats, the occasional question here and there. He laughed at the prank and admitted he was surprised city girls could cut loose like that.

“So now what?” he asks, setting his empty bowl down.

“Shit man, I don’t know. I know there’s something about this girl that’s different from the rest.”

“’Cuz she’s a Betty?”

“Nah brother… more like Veronica.”

My brother blows out a whistle. “That’s trouble. Get yourself a Betty. Franny in town has been patient as can be, watched you date everyone in town but her.”

Frustration surges through me.Did he not listen to a word I said?

“I don’t want Franny, that’s why I won’t ask her out. I won’t lead the poor thing on. I don’t want someone just to have them here for namesake. I want them here because I want them here.” I feel as though I’ve made this known but saying it out loud puts a finality to it that others must need to hear.

“And one date with this Cassidy girl was enough foryou to know you want her?” Harrison looks at me suspiciously.

“Enough that I have to see if it will go anywhere if I put some effort into it.”

“Brother, you could turn a trailer into a mansion with the kind of effort you put into things. That bein’ said you can’t force things to happen if they aren’t meant to be.”

I consider his words.

“And I won’t know if something’s meant to be without trying.”

“It takes two to tango. You going to go back into the city for a second date?” he adds, and I appreciate his devil’s advocate manner. Sometimes we need that input, it helps keep our outlook realistic.

“She won’t agree to a date. She wants one night.”

My brother slaps his knee and barks out a laugh. “From the sounds of it, she sounds like the female version of you last week. Now you’ve met the girl and gone soft.”

I punch Harrison in the shoulder, and he immediately rubs the spot.

“I ain’t soft.”

He just rubs his shoulder and smiles at me. “Okay, brother.”

We sit for a bit longer before I take my leave to head back to my place. I have laundry to do, books to keep, and a house to clean before the start of the week.

When the house is good and ready for the week ahead, I step out onto my front porch and make my way over to the porch swing. This swing is older than me; my parents said this was the first thing they added to make this place feel like a home. It looks over a large span of the property covering a part of the grazing meadow and the main barn.

The swing had seen a lot and been through its fair shareof repairs. It’s made from wood and is long enough to fit two adults and maybe three healthy kids. Deep-seated and sturdy. Every year I make sure to check that it’s in good shape and cover it with a new coat of white paint. I can tell the older original pieces of wood, like the arms, compared to some of the newer pieces that sit on the bottom.

Ma had sewn a big comfortable cushion to run along the bottom and throw pillows to arrange however you wanted along the back. Growing up, she used to read us stories and poems at night on this old thing, or she could be caught sitting out here reading by herself.

The strange part is I could see Cassidy out here on this swing. Sitting on the opposite end with her feet in my lap, her nose in a book. I like that thought and I file it away.

A week ago, I was bustin’ Harrison’s balls for daydreaming about coming home to a girl. This week as I sit on my porch swing, I’m the one daydreaming.

I stand up and go inside to grab a cold beer before taking my seat again and pulling out my phone. I turn on some music and think back to Cassidy’s words.Prove it.

Me: Hey Beautiful, what are you reading?

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